Mental.

Chapter 4

After that terrible bus ride which felt like it would never end, we finally arrive at school.

Boy, this place looks so much bigger than the last time I visited. I don't remember seeing this big field and playground, but they honestly look pretty fun.

I take out my schedule. It looks like I have Science for the first period in room W153.

I know I should at least remember where the W wing is after all the times I've been here for Salish's theater performances, but I don't.

"Do you need help finding your first class, Brooke?" Salish asks.

"That's okay, Salish. I can figure it out. See you after school!" There's no way I can admit to my little sister that I need help with something. It's my responsibility as Salish's older sister to be a role model. What will she think of me if I need her to walk me to class? Besides, how hard can it be to find? It's not like the building is that big.

Oh no. Another look at the building reminds me that it is "that big."

After I say goodbye to Salish, I nervously walk inside.

Boy, this place is packed! It's somehow much worse than the bus! Everywhere I turn kids twice my size are laughing and screaming and bumping into each other. I quickly realize that this is the high school, so I walk back outside. Oh, there's a big sign that says: "Jericho High School Entrance." How did I miss that?

I end up walking aimlessly around the outside property for a few minutes until I see the Elementary School Entrance.

How will I ever find this class? I haven't even gotten to the middle school building! I'm surrounded by noisy and unsanitary little kids entering the elementary school who are looking at me weirdly. I'm probably at least ten minutes late to class by now!

But wait—what time is it? I've always considered recording the time as a fun hobby. But right now I feel desperate for it, and I don't know why.

I begin to breathe heavily and flap my hands. What is happening to me?

"What are you doing, weirdo?" says a kid walking by. I don't really remember what "weirdo" means, but I know it's an insult.

Oh, how will I ever survive here? I feel lost in a giant area, and almost no one is out here any more. I must be really late to class. Even though I feel stray, I also don't want to be surrounded by an uncountable number of noisy and unfriendly kids from five to eighteen years old.

Everything I look at is suddenly turning blurrier and blurrier. The sound from inside the building is suddenly getting quieter and quieter. I feel like I don't even have control over my own body. And then—blankness.